Tales Not Told
by RielleAilin
Summary: One of Morpheus's many unknown love affairs.  What if there were a second set of Endless, kind of the lesser counterparts to the seven we know - and not family?
1. Meetings

Alright, the usual blah blah blah....  
This is not my universe, these are not my characters. I'm just playing with them, a privilege for which I deeply thank the immensely gifted Neil Gaiman. Anyone you don't recognize is mine and I am proud of them. Please read and review - I'm begging you..... Do you see me begging you?  
This section is G, although later ones may be PG or even - gasp - PG-13! Don't worry, I'm gentle.

Tales Not Told

Lucien edged around the corner, warily regarding his lord. Morpheus sat in his throne room, chin resting on his hand, and stared moodily into the shadows. It did not look good, and Lucien sighed. "My lord?" he murmured quietly, hoping perhaps that the Dream-King would not hear him, thus enabling him to return to his Library while still being able to say that he had done his duty.

"Did I not say that I did not wish to be disturbed, Lucien? Did you somehow misinterpret my request?"

Lucien sighed, careful to hide it. Morpheus had – well, to say that he had not been in the best of moods lately would be a bit of an understatement. "My lord, there is a – woman here to see you. In the Library. She is waiting for you."

Morpheus' eyes flashed. "I must assume this is important, else you would have told her that I do not wish to be disturbed, so I suppose I must go see her, this unwelcome guest." He unfolded himself from his throne, long coat swirling about his feet. "Go and tell her to await me; I shall be there momentarily."

With long strides, he left the room. A relieved Lucien hurried back to his library, while his lord went to the front gate of his palace. Staring up at the wyvern, the gryphon, and the unicorn that guarded his castle, he spoke coldly, dangerously. "How is it, my Guardians, that I have been presented with such an intrusion? Were you not informed that I was not accepting callers?"

The gryphon, oldest and chief of the Guardians, rumbled, "My lord, we could not help it. She – she sang to us. Not since Or – not in some time had I heard such music."

Morpheus scowled but nodded, instantly transporting himself to the Library. Lucien stood in the entranceway, waiting, and pointed down three floors and across one of the visible gaps in the stacks. There stood a woman, her back to them, a book open in one elegant, tanned hand. She wore a long, shimmering robe in many shades of deep blue, and her mahogany-colored hair flowed down her back in an unrestrained wave. With a thought, Morpheus stood next to the presumptuous woman. "Do make yourself at home, my lady," he snapped, his irritation only lightly veiled.

One eyebrow crooked toward her hair, she turned to look at him. "My lord Morpheus," she said pleasantly. "This is indeed a splendid Library you possess; I have long heard of the wonders here, and had not thought to give them credence until now. I thank you for allowing me access to it for this short time." Shelving the book in its original spot, she looked him full in the eyes, and for a moment he was brought up short. Her eyes were enormous and deep, glowing like sapphires. As her gaze held him, he seemed to hear faint strains of music, a haunting air, and for just a moment he caught a flash of his elder sister's smile, so like this bewitching stranger's.

This fleeting image made him hesitate. The woman smiled again, a little more broadly, and Morpheus felt much of his anger abate. Who is this woman? he wondered, half angrily and half in bemusement. "My lady, you may come here any time you choose; I far too rarely have the time to enjoy the treasure found here. For right now, though – did you have any pressing business? Are you mortal?"

Smiling strangely, knowingly, she replied simply, "No and no, my lord Dream-King."

"Ah. If that is the case – since you enjoyed the Library so – would you care to see some of the rest of my realm? I hardly ever have guests, and –" he trailed off, carefully watching her reaction.

Her eyes seeming to look deeply into him in an almost unnerving manner, the strange woman slowly nodded. "I would be honored to glimpse the splendors of your realm, your majesty. I am certain that no matter the number to whom you showed it off, it would never be appreciated enough to befit its glories."

At her courtly words, he laughed and said, "My lady, if we are to be traveling companions, we must forsake this elaborate nonsense. And you must call me Morpheus."

Her smile came again, like a benediction. "Then I am to be Alaina."

_Alaina_, he thought. _Her name is music._ And in the back of his mind a nascent dream surfaced, of tawny fingers tangled into midnight hair and ghost-pale in rich brown.

Lucien watched in bemusement as his lord left with the unusual woman. They were very much alike, for all their physical differences. The Dream-King was a good hand's span taller than Alaina, but they carried themselves with the same dignity and watched the world from the same keenly-observant eyes. Both also had something of the creator's fire about them, which didn't really surprise him, considering. The Librarian sighed as he saw Morpheus bend slightly to catch a soft comment from the woman at his side.

Some time later, Alaina and Morpheus returned to his throne room, the vaulting windows with their ever-changing stained glass soaring upwards on either side. High above them, the elf Nuala polished them, for lack of anything else to do; she looked down and sighed sadly at their entrance. Resigned, she simply moved higher, to a point at which she could neither hear nor easily see the two below. The echo of Morpheus' laughter at some quip still rang in her ears as she did so.

"Really, though, my lord, as pleasant as this has been, I must be going. I might not have had any pressing business then, but that _was_ some time ago, and I do fear that I must go." She smiled and tucked a strand of his unruly hair back. A swirl of music rushed out of nowhere to envelop her, and she began to vanish into it.

He reached out and clasped her hand in both of his. "Can you not linger just a few moments longer? I cannot bear to let you leave so very soon...."

"'Remain, for thou art fair'? I would I could, but I have never seen myself as Mephistopheles." She laughed lightly. "Neither, my lord, do you look like a Faust."

"Did we not agree that it was to be Morpheus?"

Again she smiled her enchanting smile, but she drew her hand free of his, ran the backs of her fingers lightly down the side of his face, and said, "Aye, we did. Well then, Morpheus – I _must_ go. However – I have an invitation for you, if you would care for it. I am having something of a party at the full of the moon -" she pulled a small, twisted bit of glass from a pocket. At a whistled note, it manifested a chain which she looped once around his wrist. "That will take you there, if you will. And I should be very honored to have you attend...." With that, the music took her completely and she disappeared.

Morpheus slumped his head into his hands, still hearing the last notes. Behind and above, Nuala, having heard the music, mirrored him. "Lucien! Lucien, come here!" Morpheus called; when the Librarian appeared, he asked, "Who was that woman?"


	2. Arguments and Reconciliations

Same deal - not my characters, not my world, not my money..... Please R&R!

Lucien looked at his lord in shock. "Lord – I thought you knew – that was Melody, of the lesser Endless!"

Morpheus was hard pressed to hide his delight. One of the lesser Endless – kin enough to understand, yet not so close as to preclude romance. The Song-Queen, the Musician.... Except he had no idea how to find her. He didn't travel enough, and her realm was notoriously prone to random movement. He threw his head back into his palms.

Would any of his siblings know, perhaps? he wondered. Delirium, perhaps.... since she tended to that kind of thing. The thought was the action; he stood and went to his gallery, completely ignoring Nuala, who knelt on her stair and wept quietly.

"Delirium, sister - I call you. I - would ask a boon – I need your help."

There was a long pause, as Morpheus stood before the frame, filled as ever with its shifting, chaotic colors. At last, Delirium's head emerged from the maelstrom.

"Brother? You – need me? You? You always seem – well, too yourself to need – y'know, like purple?"

Morpheus resisted the urge to squeeze the bridge of his nose in a distinctly human fashion. Dealing with his sister was always a challenge, but never more than when trying to get a coherent answer out of her. "Do you know the Lady Songmaker? Melody? Do you know where I might find her or her realm?" he asked intensely, leaning forward in his eagerness.

"Lady Pretty-Songs.... She's... she might be... well, no... she's usually just – around. I just hear her, and then there she is. She's always somewhere around... a lot of my people see her a lot, and hers occasionally see me.... Maybe you should ask our older sister. Her children – the ones that I spend a lot of time with, anyway – seem to end up with our sister before very long...." With these last words, she seemed to have exhausted what little coherency she could muster for the day; her head dissolved into a shower of blue sparks, shooting out of the frame like off the end of a party sparkler.

He sighed and thanked her, wondering why he hadn't thought of that earlier. Just as he began to turn away, the sparks spoke, condensing at least partially into a face. "Brother – just – don't tell Desire. Desire - you know how Desire is."

He started to turn back towards her, surprised by her sudden depth, but she vanished, leaving him staring at the wall.

"That brother of yours, Tele – you should have told me he could be such a charming thing. I never would have suspected, seeing how dour he always looks. To be honest, the only one of your family who ever seemed at all normal was Destruction, and you know how he turned out." Alaina was stretched across an overstuffed armchair in Death's apartment, head resting on one arm and her feet dangling off the other, regarding the other woman upside down.

"You just kill my furniture, you know that?" Death slurped off the last bit of a peach, juice dripping down her pale chin.

"I didn't think so, but then – I suppose you would know, wouldn't you?" Alaina quipped.

"Smart ass," Death retorted sharply, and chucked the cleaned pit at Alaina, who caught it and promptly threw it back at her. "He can indeed be so, if he wants to be. He must be very taken with you, to show off so much. And I wonder – is it possible that he has some reason for this behavior? Could you possibly be as... smitten?"

"So much? He was like a mortal teenager with his first crush." For all that Alaina's words were outwardly mocking, there was something oddly gentle about the look she wore. Ignoring the other question, she stood and went to Death's stereo. "Speaking of... things, I have some new music for you to hear. I think it's going to be a new genre, I just don't have anyone worth giving it to yet..." she trailed off, tapping the top of the stereo. Music poured forth despite the lack of any visible source.

"I don't know why you bother with that, Ali. You and I both know that you could only wave your hand; you've even set that thing up so I can do the same thing. And –"she paused dramatically, making Alaina turn to look at her from where she stood lost in the music, one finger directing a tiny symphony in front of her. "And you're changing the subject."

"I like the speakers on this stereo. It makes my life easier. And – I am not avoiding the question. I am – thinking. Yeah. Thinking."

Death jumped a little at a slight shiver in the air. "Speak of the devil. He's calling me."


	3. Of Invitations

Same deal - still not my characters, my world.... no money.... read and review, please?  
  
"Really?" Rolling the r and raising one eyebrow in interest and some delight, Alia stood. "Tell him you're here – I'll hide in the kitchen – let's see what he has to say."

"That's cruel," Death laughed, but she waved Alaina toward the kitchen, already starting to answer her brother.

He stepped out of the gallery looking harried. "Sister – I have to beg a boon. Some information."

"Morpheus, sit down. I don't know why you're always so formal; you know I'll help you in any way I can." Death leaned back in her chair and looked intently at her brother. Peeping around the edge of the kitchen door, feeling rather like a five year old child spying on her parents, Melody did the same. The Dream-Lord looked quite the worse for wear; he kept running his fingers through his already disheveled hair, his eyes were wide, and he even looked worried. To her faint surprise, Melody found the urge to emerge and disentangle those long pale fingers annoyingly hard to resist. She clamped down hard on it and forced herself to concentrate on what he was saying, not admire that clean profile or lose herself in that smooth voice.

"I had an unexpected visitor this morning – the Lady Melody, the Songmaker. I greatly enjoyed her company – I thought she was also enjoying her time – but she vanished quite rapidly, and I have no way to see her again." He paused, and his voice was far quieter and more intense when he resumed. "And I find myself greatly wanting to see her again."

That last admission seemed to cost him dearly, in recognition of that fact, Death did not make him ask what he needed of her. "I can't tell you where to find her – she moves her realm frequently, usually justifying it with some nonsense about the view. She tends to keep it between Chaos and Order, in the Shifting Lands, so a general idea won't do you any good." She paused and regarded her brother until he finally looked up from his hands. "If she enjoyed her time in your realm as much as you say – and I have no doubt she did – she will certainly come back. For all you know, she may be waiting outside the gate of horn even now."

Alaina took this as the hint it was meant to be, and vanished. Dream shook his head. "No, no false dream she. But I thank you for your advice, sister." So saying, he too vanished, to stand outside the gate of horn. The long line of dreams there immediately began clamoring for his attention, but he ignored them to sweep his gaze up and down the line, looking for the form graven on the inside of his eyelids. When he had seen she was not there, looking even behind dreams that could not have possibly sheltered her, his shoulders slumped and he slipped through the gate into his palace.

He fell into his throne, seeing nothing at all. If he had been human, he would have wept. Suddenly, a warm hand touched his shoulder.

"My lord Morpheus, your music is troubled. What bothers you?" said a soft, musical voice.

His head shot up, shaking her hand free. She pulled it back, vaguely hurt, but he ignored the look in her eyes. "Absolutely nothing, Lady Melody. Now, did you have business here?" _Or are you wasting my time, playing with me,_ came the unvoiced undercurrent; Alaina heard it and straightened, her eyes chill. The music that always swirled about her turned cold and martial.

"Business, Dream-King." She waved her hand and a clipboard appeared in it. "You know, my lord, that you have a certain responsibility to introduce music thorough dreams. This list is the backlog. As you can see, it is quite long." Robes swirling, careful not to touch him at all, she set the clipboard on his knees and turned to stalk from the room.

Morpheus listened momentarily to the clicking of her heels receding on the hard floor; after what seemed a long time, he stood, clipboard falling to the floor unheeded. "Wait!" he called in a strangled voice. Nearly to the door, she turned and looked at him. He hoped that he wasn't just imagining the way she seemed regretful at the thought of leaving. "I was hasty.... I was wrong.... Won't you stay?"

For a very long moment, she just looked at him. Slowly, she came over to him, her eyes seeming to glow. _Perhaps he has learned something from the whole messy affair with Nada..._ "Yes, if my lord commands." Her robes swirled about her as she held out a hand, which he timidly took.

"If you will consent, and if you care to forgive me, I took the liberty of asking my staff to prepare a picnic lunch. I had thought to show you Fiddler's Green."

She laughed softly, plainly having decided not to stay angry with him, a fact that lightened his heart a surprisingly large amount. "See more of this lovely realm of yours, my lord Morpheus? I should be a veritable cretin if I passed up this chance."

"My lady, as I have told you so many times," the Dream-King took on a mock scolding tone, "if we are to travel together, you _must_ call me Morpheus." Alaina's only response was to smile and take the arm he offered.

An old woman, wandering across the Green, said, "Look at those two. What a lovely couple. He's so in love with her." The man beside her, her dead husband, remembered as he was when they were young and madly in love, nodded and smiled, then grabbed his wife's hand and ran off across the grass, thoughts of the pond around the corner filling both their heads.

The couple they were talking about sat in the grass on a sun soaked hill, the remains of a small meal arrayed on a blanket next to them. Alaina was fruitlessly trying to make a blade of grass whistle; she shredded yet another sprig and flung it away in frustration.

"Shouldn't you be able to do that?" Morpheus inquired, deceptively mild. "I would think that would be your area of expertise."

Looking grumpy, Alaina muttered, "Surprised you think at all," and ripped another piece of grass in half. Unable to help himself, he laughed; she tossed the pieces into his hair.

"Yaa, vile woman," he laughed. "You'll pay for that." Alaina sniffed mockingly and ostentatiously turned her back. Morpheus pounced on her, she retaliated by tickling him, and the pair rolled down the hill, laughing uproariously. When they finally came to a stop at the bottom, both had grass in their hair. Alaina laid her head back on Morpheus' stomach, panting; he absently ran one hand through her hair, twirling it around his fingers. She closed her eyes in bliss, luxuriating in the sun and the sensation of his hands.

Just like that, they watched the sun set behind the hill; the Dreaming did not normally acknowledge the seasons or the time of day, but Fiddler's Green felt that it gave atmosphere to the place, so he did, somewhat randomly, humor natural laws. "You know, I met him once – Fiddler's Green. In the waking world, while you were... indisposed. Nice being, him. Music lover." Alaina said the only thing that entered her mind, pleasantly warm and comfortable.

"Mmm," Morpheus murmured. He was lost within himself, in a state much like a human doze. Alaina stretched one hand back and ran the backs of her fingers up and down his ribs.

"You're too skinny," she commented. "Need feeding." He laughed and squirmed away from her hand; while it didn't feel bad, it was slightly odd. She flipped onto her stomach and looked at him intently, pale figure against the black of his clothes and the deepening green of the grass. "It works for you, though."

Seeing her so close, silhouetted now against the sky, the first stars appearing behind her, he wondered vaguely whether he might kiss her. He began to move when a low chord sounded and her head jerked around. "Shit!" she yelped. "I have to go – I have visitors tonight, helping me arrange that party.... Speaking of which, do you still have your invitation?"

He held out a wrist, wordlessly, to show the silver chain and glassy bit wrapped around it. She ran a finger down the chain, lightly. "Fishes' breath it takes, and the sound a broken moonbeam makes," she said absently, as if quoting to herself. "I keep finding myself in a position where I have to run away, my lord Morpheus, and I apologize for it." He began to sit up, to try and keep her there, but she abruptly vanished, leaving him with only the bauble hanging from his wrist. With the arrival of darkness, it had begun to glow softly, and he looked at it for a long moment before walking back up the hill to find the half-bottle of wine left from their meal. The old woman and her younger companion happened by, dripping, and sat with him to finish it.

Melody was again sitting in Death's apartment, although this time it was she eating the peach. "You get the best peaches; I don't know how," she remarked idly.

"I'm not sure how I have so many of them, considering the number you eat." Death was feeding her goldfish, and the peach pit that Melody threw nearly hit her before she snatched it from the air without turning.

"That's unfair, you know," Alaina muttered. Death tossed the pit back at her; since she was again hanging almost upside down off the couch, she couldn't dodge in time. The peach pit lodged in her unruly hair, and she sat up, shaking her head wildly in an attempt to get it out.

It came free and shot across the room to strike a very surprised Dream on the forehead. Alaina stared in shock as he caught it and offered it back to her with an ironic twist to his lips. "This would be yours, my lady?" She took it sheepishly and vanished it back to her own realm in a brief arpeggio, unable to think of anything else to do with it. With a quick apology, she swiftly followed it. Morpheus collapsed into the chair she had just vacated and glared at his sister.

"What's bothering you?" Death said, turning and sitting down where she could watch both her fish and her brother.

"Have you ever found that two people who you thought knew each other not at all not only know each other but are good friends?"

This, coming out all in one breath and in horrifically twisted syntax as it did, took Death a bit aback. "What? You mean me and Melody? Why does it bother you that I know her?" She peered at him, and enlightenment dawned on her face. "You think we gossiping, don't you? That's some ego there; we were talking about peaches." _And you, my brother though you are, are no peach._

"I wanted to ask you about this party she's having...."

"The music release one, yeah."

"So you know about it, then." Bitterness momentarily rose in him.

"Of course I do – most people go to those things; you'd enjoy it if you did, but you've always been too standoffish. Alaina throws a great party."

Dream looked away for a moment, then looked back up. "Does she want me to come, do you think?" He looked, in that instant, as young and vulnerable as any gawky teenager thinking about asking a girl to the prom.

Death felt bad for him, sympathetic and very older-sisterly. "Did she give you one of her invitations?" At his nod and displaying motion, she continued, "Then she wants you there. I'd go if I were you – in fact, I intend to be there."

He nodded, thanked her, and left, leaving Dream thinking that she would have to keep an eye on her brother.


	4. Shattered Glass

Same thing as before - not mine, just playing, no money being made.... Please read and review...  
  
Despite Death's reassurance, Dream still regarded the whole thing with extreme wariness. He had asked around about these parties Alaina held – to his surprise, she had found that far more people attended than he had ever expected. Fiddler's Green was a regular guest, as Lucien had been while Dream himself had been imprisoned. Both had little glass-bit invitations, differently shaped from his own. They had explained those, too; each one was different, tailored to the person who would use it. It would work for no other, which served as Melody's way to limit who could visit her realm. If she were displeased with you, or if you were not invited, the bauble would simply refuse to take you there. Only a handful of people, of which Death was one, had stones that would take them to her at any time at all.

And so when the night of the release celebration came, he stood in his private chambers, the glowing invitation held tightly in one hand, still hesitant. "Y'gonna use that thing, eh?" croaked Matthew the raven. "You're already late – it's not good to be late to her flings, because there's so many people there that you'll never get a good seat." Dream ignored his raven, inwardly unsurprised that the bird should also have been to one of Melody's shows, and clutched the glass thing more tightly. He had just decided that he would go after all when it shattered in his hand, but the music had already reached out and taken him even as he began to look down at his hand in shock.

The world reformed around him to find him in an elegant formal garden. A fountain burbled to his left, sending crystalline shimmers of light out across the flagged paving. Ahead of him, under an elaborate filigreed silver arch, stood Alaina, looking expectant and, as she saw him, happy. She was very much of a piece with the beautiful garden, resplendent in robes of a deep midnight blue shot through with silver threads. A crown that seemed to be made of chained stars restrained her thick hair; occasionally, one of the brilliant points of light would lift itself free of the rest and swoop about her head for a moment, creating the illusion of a shifting halo. Barring her crown, she wore no jewelry, and the deep swooping neckline of her robes revealed the clean lines of her shoulders.

Transfixed by her looks and her smile, he could do nothing more than stand there and stare. She held out a hand to him in welcome, starting to say something, just as the first drop of blood fell toward the stone. Her eyes seemed to snap to it, and before it struck she was at his side, having seemed to cross the intervening space in one long stride.

"You're hurt," she murmured, reaching for his hand. He twitched, and she flinched back, but persistently reached again. Taking him by the wrist, she led him to a bench that was far sturdier than it looked, and turned his hand over in her lap.

"It's nothing," he managed, not wanting her to see the mess he had made of his hand and her token. She snorted and continued softly prying his fingers open, hissing in sympathy.

Leaning over his hand, she began picking the glass shards out with her deft fingers, a merrily whistled tune creating a tiny witchlight to hover near. Morpheus was lost again, his eyes aimlessly following the rippling lines of her hair down from the part on top of her head. Suddenly, she looked up at him, locking her iridescent blue eyes on his. "I can heal this, if you'll let me. It is, after all, somewhat my responsibility – and I cannot have a guest walking about injured."

He nodded an assent and murmured a thank you; she closed her eyes, cradled his hand in both her own, and whistled a short sequence of notes. The shards in his hand dissolved and disappeared, reforming into a new invitation on the bench beside him. Now she switched from a whistle to a song, the music increasing in complexity. She sang chords, all the pitches simultaneously. The song changed, and she seemed to be singing herself, somehow. He could hear the rippling arpeggios that were her hair, the deep low tones of her voice, the tricky key changes and octave jumps that were her agile mind, and he began to think he might understand her. Then the melody changed again, segueing to singing him. This song was darker, slower, lower, and far more complex, two and sometimes more separate melodies running counterpoint to each other. A thread of discord snaked through the song, and as he watched her face, he could see her finding it, understanding what the song should sound like, and changing it, note by note, until at last she sang the song without flaw.

Melody opened her eyes, the spell was broken, and he looked down to see his hand mended without even a scar. She stroked a thumb over his palm, the gentle touch running fire down his veins, and looked up at him with understanding in her eyes. Smiling slowly, she repeated the stroking motion and watched him shiver.


	5. Nascent Dreams

Here we go again. To anyone that's actually reading this, sorry about the wait. And, as ever before, those characters you recognize are still not mine, I'm still not getting any money, I still beg you not to sue me, and I still also beg you to review. I promise you, if you do, I'll return the favor.

Dream leaned toward Melody, but she spun away and stood, moving so fast that the end of her hair rose to flick across his nose. "Come on, it's well after moonrise. We're expected – they can't start without me." She had not relinquished her hold on his hand, and she tugged him along after her. He too stood, tucked her hand into the crook of his arm, and motioned for her to lead him. Seeing how formally dressed she was, he transformed his clothes until he too wore formal regalia. His cloak dragged on the flagstones, edged with shifting flames, and he wore a wrought-iron coronet centered with a large ruby. He looked every inch a king and every inch a fitting match for his escort.

Guiding him with the faintest pressure on his arm, she led him out of the garden, through a clear stretch of woods, the trees all decked in silver-gilt moonlight, and across a series of filigree bridges from one tiny island to another. Ahead, he could see a larger island, brilliantly lit and quite crowded. They crossed to it and were met by all manner of beings from all manner of realms. He saw many humans, some wearing the glittering bits of jewelry that he assumed were a kind of livery, a few beings that might have been angels, a pair of satyrs, and a handful of godlings of various religions, Bacchus notably present and unusually sober. There were also some stranger guests – he recognized one of the representatives of Chaos, and over there were a few large birds, a gryphon, three of the muses, a star scattered in here and there, a largish dragon, and his sisters Death and Delirium, standing by the punchbowl.

Those who saw him reacted mostly with surprise, although that abated somewhat when they saw that Melody herself had brought him. She was universally greeted with delight, and it was with some trouble that she made her way through the press of people to reach the small raised stage. Stepping up onto it, she called out, "Ladies, gentlebeings, friends, and assorted personalities of the realms! I am most blessed that you all have found your way here on this lovely night for my humble exhibition. And so, without any more from me – I know what you're all here for – I would like to present to you Stardove, chosen to bring this to you." A bemused looking group of humans filed onto the stage, but, like true musicians, saw the waiting audience and instruments, went straight to their places, and began to tune. The looks on their faces when they all, even the violinist, found them in perfect tune and tone were studies in disbelief.

The sound that rushed forth when they began to play was like nothing else Dream had ever heard, lyrical and devastatingly catchy. Within a few beats, most of the audience was smiling and dancing; some even sang along. Even the dragon, perched as she was on the edge of the island so that she could fit, bobbed her head in time and thumped her tail in the water.

"How did you get them here?" Morpheus murmured to Alaina, forced to put his mouth right next to her ear so she could hear him over the noise of the jubilant crowd and band.

"They're musicians – they're all connected to this place, the place where the music they normally hear only in their heads is real. In dreams or creativity, they come here, and the greatest spend their entire life searching to recreate the sound of it. And, of course, if I want them, I can bring them here, living or dead, body and soul."

"Dead?"

"Of course. So long as their music is known, the greatest never lose their connection to my realm. In fact, most of my creative committee is actually dead." She nodded toward several people: a woman with a profusion of bangle bracelets and a pair of small round sunglasses, an old black man who carried a blind man's cane, a long-haired man sporting his own pair of small round glasses, a wasted-looking blond man carrying a beer, a ridiculously loud man in a frock coat, a vibrant black woman with short-cropped hair who stood singing along in a throaty voice, and a stooped old man with a fluff of white-blond hair, all of whom wore bits of her glittering jewelry. "All of them dead – and all of them major contributors to this show tonight."

Suddenly she looked at the empty space in the middle of the dancing people. "Dance?" she asked, sliding into it and performing a lazy back flip followed by a series of intricate dance steps. He grinned broadly and duplicated her motions, minus the back flip and with the addition of a few extra intricacies. Ending in a low bow, he stretched out a hand to her, which she took with a grin of her own.

He spun her into his chest and, holding her close, they began to dance. The rest of the crowd stepped back, to watch and to give them room as they whirled back and forth. The band on stage played faster, the dancers moved faster, and so it went, spiraling up into a dizzy crescendo of sound and motion. At last, exhausted, the musicians stopped with one last wail of the flute; Morpheus and Alaina sunk down in perfect unison, he bending her back so far that the back of her head touched the ground.

The crowd lost its collective mind, whistling and stamping so loudly the island shook. The dancers rose and bowed, then ceded to space to others, retreating to stand beside Death at the punch bowl. Dream reached to take a cup of it, but Melody stopped him. Making a quick swirling gesture and trilling a whistle, she formed three tall wine flutes full of a pale wine and handed one each to Death and Dream. He took a sip, finding it a sharp, clean tasting champagne-like drink and raised his eyebrows in appreciation.

"Enjoying the show?" Melody asked Death, who nodded enthusiastically.

"Best in a long while, I think. You've outdone yourself this time."

Alaina smiled happily and thanked her, then seemed to be about to say something else. Before she could, she was interrupted by a large, red-haired man's request for a dance. She greeted him as a good friend, gave him a quick hug and a peck on the cheek, and accepted. They slipped off and Death looked at Morpheus. "So?

"So?" he said abstractedly, watching Melody's new dance partner intently. There was something hauntingly familiar about the man, as if he were someone that Morpheus had once known very well.

"Well? How goes it with you and the Lady Melody?"

Dream glanced quickly at his sister, then went back to watching Alaina dance. "I think she's completely fascinating. I can't tell what she thinks, half the time."

"She keeps coming back, which says a lot about her interest in you," Dream informed him nonchalantly; his head whipped around to stare at her.

"You think so?" he asked, striving for the same careless attitude his sister had and failing utterly. She smiled wryly at him and nodded; he resolved then and there to ask Melody her opinion just as soon as he next spoke to her, and that soon. As he opened his mouth again to ask her another question, Alaina slipped up behind him and ran her fingertips lightly down his forearm as she walked up next to him.

"Can I claim this dance, my lord?" she asked lightly. He nodded his acquiescence, the only thing he could do, and spun her out toward the crest of the small island. As before, she danced well in his arms, her bare toes just skimming the surface of the grassy knoll, but this time – he could not decide if it was just his imagination or if her hands really did linger on his, her steps toward him seem more eager than the ones away, and her glowing eyes burn just a bit brighter when she smiled at him.

At last, after a number of dances and a few more glasses of wine – Morpheus drank far more quickly than the lighthearted Melody, as if trying, like a mortal would, to get himself drunk – Melody disentangled herself from Morpheus' arms. Rising a little into the air, she called out to her guests again. "Alright, everyone! As you can see, the moon is setting, and that means I must regretfully part with your delightful company. If you would all now take hold of your talismans, they will return you home." As she settled back to the ground, Morpheus instinctively putting out a hand to steady her, all around her hands fumbled at pockets, purses, wrists, and necks. Bits of glimmering glass appeared across the island, twinkling like stars, were wrapped in hands and claws and wings, and took their owners away in swirls of dancing music. Morpheus reached for his own wrist; without looking at him, Melody grabbed his hand and stopped him.


	6. Answers Make More Questions

Disclaimer: Usual stuff, no surprises here. I still haven't gained any rights to any of this stuff. Would that I were so lucky and talented!

A/N: Despite some indications to the contrary, this is not a Mary Sue. :shudder: This had begun as a idea of where Alianora came from, but it's become increasingly apparent as I write that this is _not_ her. No more is it me, though. (I certainly have no musical talent, nor any pretensions to same. This world has enough bad musicians and poets.) Looks like you'll find out right along with me who exactly she is.

At last, aside from those of Alaina's subjects who were to clean everything up and the band itself, the hilltop was empty. Death embraced Alaina quickly, whispered something in her ear that made her laugh, and vanished herself. Dream turned to her, starting to speak, but she shushed him and murmured only something about unfinished business.

Taking his hand again, she led him across the dancing floor to the stage. What the mortal band must have thought to see the pair striding towards them perhaps only Destiny would ever know; in some deep place in their minds, they knew Melody. She was the singer they heard when they heard their music at its best. Seeing her like this, seemingly in the flesh and dressed like a queen – and his man with her, darkness embodied, with flashing stars for eyes – they didn't know what to think.

"I would like to congratulate you on a flawless performance tonight, and wish you all the best." As she spoke, she gently kissed each musician on the forehead. "May there be many more such wondrous nights for each of you." Melody smiled knowingly. "I believe I can say with relative certainty that there will be, in fact."

The bassist, braver than the rest, finally managed to gather his thoughts enough to ask, "Lady? What – where – what's happening?"

Alaina only smiled in response, waving her hand and sending the whole group to their homes. "They'll remember that, but as nothing more than a half-memory of the best performance of their lives – and its deserved acclaim." She turned away from the stage, taking Morpheus' hand again, and led him from the island, over several small bridges, through a different wood, and to a large, nearly enclosed bay. Still silent, she paused on the middle of the bridge to the island that occupied the center of the bay. A pale crystal tower rose from the island behind her, multiple twisting spires spawning from the single slender base like branches on a tree.

She rested her elbows on the railing of the bridge, staring out into the darkness, the only light the sparkles of her crown. Morpheus, incredibly uncomfortable, stood stiffly behind her, saying nothing. Melody's eyes flicked toward him once, and then she started to sing. Her voice rolled clear out across the water, stirring up wavelets and vibrating in his bones like the tolling of an incredibly deep-toned bell. Something inside him responded to the wordless melody, rising in a silent harmony. She turned to him and held out her hands, still singing; he took them and swirled her into a waltz. It was somewhat disconcerting, he found, to be dancing with the source of the music as it poured forth from between her slightly parted lips. Despite that, it was a very enjoyable dance, with her pressed so close to him that he could feel her throat pulsing against his collarbone.

When at last she ended the song, on a gently rising trill, he tugged her still closer for a moment and then led her to a bench that curved off the edge of the bridge. It extended out over the water, just above the surface, a small connected floor serving as both a safety feature and a place to sit and dangle one's feet in the water, and Alaina did just that. Morpheus had to do the same to look at her on the level, which was another strange sensation, with the water lapping around his feet.

"Lady Melody, Alaina, I – I just wanted..." Alaina turned to look mildly at the stammering Morpheus, raising one eyebrow.

Then she seemed to see something over his shoulder, leaned around him, and pointed, her face close to his own. "Look – moon birds." He turned to look despite himself and saw the spiraling flight of the ancient birds. Like the guardians of his own realm, the moon birds were long extinct in their own world, but Alaina had thought they were so beautiful that she had preserved them here. They rose in their distinctive looping flight, singing as they flew, higher and higher until, at the peak of their ascent, they did wingovers in unison and dove, flinging out their wings as they did so in explosions of light and music.

Her face close to his, Alaina surreptitiously turned to look at him, seeing his eyes wide in wonder and smiling at the look of delight on his face. As she was looking at him, he turned to look back at her and stopped, star struck. The moonlight frosted the ends of her eyelashes into silver-gilt, and with her looking into the light, he seemed to be able to see all the way into the depths of her soul.

To her surprise, his eyes were truly a dark, dark blue, so deep she could never see to the end, and only by being this close and paying very close attention could she distinguish the color at all.

"Alaina," he began, slowly. "Alaina, I want to say something. I – I think that you're absolutely fascinating- the most bewitching creature I've ever seen. I was creating a dream today, a dream of a woman – and she turned into you. No matter what I tried, she wouldn't become the woman I was trying for..."

Alaina smiled and shook her head, laughing. "Thank you, I think."

He turned away, rather flustered by her laughter and thinking she was ridiculing him. Instantly contrite, she reached out a hand and gently turned him by the wrist. "I wasn't laughing at you. Not really. I'm actually very flattered. Honestly. I just – it was unexpected, is all."

Morpheus looked at her, eyes flashing. "I do not want your pity," he snarled.

Her laugh was ironic. "Believe me, my lord, you do not have it. I would not _dare_ pity you." Plainly, he didn't know what to do with this remark; he just looked blankly at her.


End file.
